Pineapples of the Caribbean
by Whythegreenbanana
Summary: A swashbuckling adventure of pineapples and beetroots and The Black Banana...Read please!


The ship was mired in a cursed fog. On its bows a small troubled beetroot was singing.

"Yo ho yo ho a pineapple's life for me" she sang, vaguely in tune – sort of. As she carried on informing her imaginary friends that she was indeed a really bad egg, a huge hairy hand clapped on her shoulder.

"Quiet missy, its bad luck to be singing about pineapples, you don't want to bring them down on us do ya?" he hissed in her ear. She gasped.

"Mr Gibbs that will do" came the smooth dulcet tones of Lieutenant Norrington.

"She was singing about pineapples, bad luck to be singing about pineapples especially with us mired in this cursed fog," he hissed. He was good at hissing.

"Mr Gibbs, back to work!" purred Norrington.

"It's bad luck to have a woman on board too, even a miniature one" he hissed. Again.

"Actually I would quite like to meet a pineapple" piped up the small beetroot. Norrington smiled, delighting in his Mercedes like voice.

"Think again Miss Swann, vile and dissolute fruits the lot of them. I intend to see that any fruit that sails under a pineapple flag or is yellow and spiky gets what he deserves," he cooed. "A short drop and a sudden stop" he smiled fatherly, like Michael Jackson, down at Elizabeth. In the background Mr. Gibbs made a hanging gesture with his neckerchief. But it went wrong and his face contorted as he momentarily cut off his air supply.

"I am worried about the effect this subject will have on my daughter" interrupted Governor Swann, the father of the small beetroot and owner of the largest collection of funny wigs in England. Norrington apologised and went off to splice an oar, or whatever it is that sailors do when they are not drowning.

"Actually I find it all rather fascinating" piped Elizabeth, speaking when not spoken to.

"That's what concerns me" said her father, wandering off as well. Elizabeth turned back to gaze upon the water. Then her sharp young eyesight landed upon a parasol. Her brows furrowed with the effort of wondering why it was there. But then her clear eyes spotted a bedraggled figure lying on a piece of wood, like a raft. Her instincts kicked in and she shouted,

"Look, look! There's a beetrootlet in the water!" she turned with a horrified gasp to the commanding silhouette that was Lieutenant Norrington.

All the sailors leaped to the beetrootlet's aid and pulled him ashore. But then Mr. Gibbs was heard on the side of the ship.

"Beet, mother of Root" he hissed. The rest of the crew hurried to see what had caught his attention. As the fog cleared a ship could be seen. Well it was a ship. It had been reduced to a pile of sticks in the water, lit by hungry flames that had devoured the rest.

"What happened here?" asked Elizabeth's father, unable to work it out for himself.

"Most likely the powder magazine. Merchant ships run heavily armed" explained Norrington smoothly, also unable to put two and two together.

"Everyone's thinking it, I'm just saying it! Pineapples!" hissed Mr. Gibbs, surprisingly the quickest one.

"Oh, there's no proof of that" said the Governor, still unable to work it out for himself. Norrington turned and barked out orders for the sailors to go to the destroyed ship. Why, was another matter.

"Elizabeth. I want you to look after him. He'll be in your care", said the Governor, gesturing at the boy. Elizabeth acquiesced. The Governor stared at her retreating back with a look that could have meant he was fearful, or had eaten some bad stew the night before.

Elizabeth wandered over to where the beetrootlet lay and smoothed his shirt. He was a bad colour. Almost yellow. Suddenly the beetrootlet awoke and grabbed her hand. Elizabeth jumped.

"It's alright. My name's Elizabeth Swann" she said reassuringly, smiling benevolently down at him.

"W-will Turner" the beetroot gasped, before falling back unconscious. Talking is hard work. Especially for those with few brain cells.

Elizabeth frowned prettily before noticing what the beetroot was wearing round his neck. It was a gold medallion with a skull on. Ah, she thought. Pomegranate gooold. But it meant one thing. At least to her.

"You're a pineapple!" she gasped.

"Has he said anything?" purred Norrington behind her. Elizabeth spun round.

"His name's William Turner, that's all I found out" she said, keeping the medallion behind her back in a very inconspicuous way.

"Take him below" ordered Norrington commandingly to the sailors. Elizabeth wandered over to the ship's side and looked into the distance as she touched the medallion. Suddenly she saw something. It was a ship with black ragged sails and a flag with a black banana. She blinked, and was magically transported eight years into the future.

Elizabeth stared around her bedroom as though she had not spent the past eight years sleeping in it. She got up and hurried over to her desk where she opened her drawer and opened her secret compartment. Next to the empty heroin tube lay the very dusty medallion. She picked it up, and tied it around her neck, admiring her cleavage in the mirror. She pouted.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Elizabeth spun around in horror as her father called to her,

"Elizabeth, are you decent?" Elizabeth gasped and hurried over to the bed knocking over the chair on the way. She hurriedly hid the needles under the bedclothes before pulling on her dressing gown. She shoved the medallion down her top, best place for it, and shouted for her father to come in.

"Aahh, still abed at this hour" he said benevolently as he wandered into her room, followed by a lot of maids. He failed to notice that she was not actually abed. He had been up since seven, feeding his wig in the company of a rum bottle. Yum.

One maid opened the window to reveal a wonderful painting of the bay. The other maids brandished a box.

"I have a gift for you" said the Governor proudly. It was a dress that I thought was a bit nondescript but Elizabeth cried out that it was lovely. But then her sharp young wit kicked in.

"My I inquire as to the occasion?" she asked slyly. The Governor smiled benevolently.

"As if a father would need an occasion to dote upon his father" he replied. Elizabeth smiled and wandered behind the screen.

"Actually I was wondering if you might wear it for the ceremony today" the Governor said hopefully.

"Ceremony?" replied Elizabeth in surprise.

"Captain Norrington's promotion ceremony or Commodore Norrington as he's about to become" the Governor said admiringly. That voice…

"I knew it!" hissed Elizabeth, sounding sceptical but actually delighted that she could say those words truthfully.

"He fancies you, you know" the Governor said jealously. Elizabeth didn't say anything. She was being laced into her corset.

"Elizabeth, how's it coming?" he inquired.

"It's difficult to say" she said with some difficulty.

"I'm told it's the latest fashion in London" said the Governor. As if he would know. His wig stirred on his head.

"Well women in England must have learnt not to breathe" said Elizabeth rudely. The wig barked.

"My Lord, you have a visitor" said a pompous footman person.

And indeed he did. A poorly dressed nearly-a-beetroot was standing in the hallway looking out-of-place. For some reason unknown to us he decided to fiddle with a lamp. He broke it, predictably, and looked around furtively before he dropped it in a convenient bucket. Just at that moment a servant wandered past carrying a tray and looking pompous. The nearly-a-beetroot pretended to look ordinary. Then he noticed the Governor wandering down the stairs and he hurried forward brandishing a long thin case.

"Good day sir. I have your order" he said triumphantly. The Governor made an appropriate noise. The nearly-a-beetroot reached into the case and brought out a sword in a scabbard. He handed it reverently to the Governor, who drew it out and looked at it pretending to admire it.

"The blade is made from folded steel. That's gold filigree laid into the handle" said the nearly-a-beetroot with a look that was supposed to be sincere.

"Allow me sir" he continued, longing to show off with it. Then he carefully balanced it on his finger and smiled triumphantly.

"Look the tang is nearly the full width of the blade" he said. He had looked that word up especially in the dictionary that morning. Then he did a complicated flippy thing as he threw the sword in the air and caught it. He had practiced that for hours with the donkey. The donkey wasn't nearly as impressed as the Governor who mumbled something about it being impressive. The nearly-a-beetroot handed the sword back and the Governor placed it in the case.

"Commodore Norrington's going to be very impressed with this" he said happily. Aahh, Commodore Norrington…

A noise on the stair made them look up. The nearly-a-beetroot looked up and made a funny noise in his throat. Like a frog at mating time.

"Elizabeth, you look lovely!" exclaimed the Governor. She smiled, before noticing her father's companion.

"Will, I had a dream about you last night!" she exclaimed. For those of who are a little slow, the commoner with the sword was indeed Will Turner. He sadly survived.

"About me, Miss Swann?" gulped Will.

"Elizabeth is that entirely proper?" mumbled the Governor.

"About the day we met, do you remember?" she persisted.

"How could I forget Miss Swann?" he gulped again.

"Will, how many times must I ask you to call me Elizabeth?" Elizabeth asked smiling slightly.

"At least once more, as always" gulped Will.

"There, at least the boy has a sense of propriety" muttered the Governor. Elizabeth scowled prettily. The Governor turned to go and Elizabeth looked back to Will.

"Good day Mr. Turner" she said snootily. Will gulped and followed her out of the door and as she got into the carriage. As the carriage rolled away Will smiled dreamily.

"Good day, Elizabeth…" he said languorously. Those with half a brain will realise that love is in the air… aaaahhhhh.


End file.
